


Heart's on Fire

by MysteryHack



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Drinking, Emotional Hurt, M/M, Masturbation, Memories, PWP, Sad, Smoking, ghost!hanzo, idk why i wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 22:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12714408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteryHack/pseuds/MysteryHack
Summary: Hanzo's dead, Jesse's on the run. One drunken night the cowboy is reminded of his lover.Just a sad, smutty drabble about a lonely cowboy on a cold night.I might turn this into a fic, Idk.





	Heart's on Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to Heart's on Fire by Passenger writing this! 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=40MIHUXqDpI

It must have been well past last call when Jesse raised his head up from the haggard, wooden bar top. The bartender had long since learned to leave him lying, lost in a drunken stupor, until Jesse came around of his own accord. The ancient jukebox still plied tunes out of its busted speakers, but the songs had turned softer, more pleasurable to the ear than the screaming guitars that had been bellowing hours previous.

 

The throbbing in his temple is what pulled him from his reverie; the smell of Sakura petals and a crisp aftershave lost out to the acrid smell of whiskey that clung to the cowboy. How long had it been since he'd last seen the archer anyway? Jesse's sluggish brain tried to do add up the days he'd been holed up in Montana, endless they seemed. The loud resounding sound of a gunshot too close to Jesse's head rang in his ear; the ghost of his failure haunting him ceaselessly. His brain began to work out the kinks; that was right; it had been 103 days since he'd gotten Hanzo killed.

 

Jesse mumbled out a harsh, "Thank ya." Before leaving a $100 in the place where his head had rested and tipped his hat to his late night companion. The Jack Daniels that had bolstered his mood all evening now sat low, weighing on the once sturdy legs of the Overwatch agent...if he could still call himself that. Jesse exited the bar, a small hole in the wall in the middle of nowhere, and began the trek back to the cabin he'd been renting; he might as well buy it at this rate.

 

The snow continued to fall in fat white puffs, the soft kind of snow; the kind Hanzo liked. Jesse wrapped his serape more tightly around his body, ducking his head to stare through half frozen tears. There wasn't a soul around to watch the cowboy stumbling blindly in the dark, trying to scrape stubborn rivulets from his cheeks. The walk couldn't have taken more than fifteen minutes, but the wind had stolen the breath from Jesse's lungs and nipped at his fingertips until he scarcely thought he'd make it home.

 

Finally, the silhouette of his tiny shack loomed in the distance, the windows dark; the whole property gave off a largely unwelcoming vibe. It felt like more like a gravesite than a home, and that suited Jesse just fine. He'd probably drink himself to death here anyhow. Jesse brought one of his soaking boots onto the thin paneling of door, the wood giving beneath the pressure. The shadows of the cabin greeted him as they would an old friend, and it took Jesse all of his strength to load a few dry logs onto the fire and snap on the two kerosene lanterns that came with the cabin. Once the room was bathed in a soft orange hue, Jesse tossed his serape, hat, and holster onto the small dining table.

 

Numbed feet padded over to the mess that had spread onto every counter in the kitchenette; clumsy hands reached for the half drank whiskey bottle and the pack of cigarillos. Jesse threw himself onto the narrow twin bed opposite the fireplace. The cowboy watched the flames flicker and dance over their kindling while taking a long swig of the burning liquid. It took him more tries than he;d feel comfortable with, but finally Jesse managed to light his tobacco, popping the roll into his mouth and savoring the sweet, cloven smoke that wound through his lungs. His head lolled back, shaggy brown waves rubbed against the hard wood grain of the cabin's walls, small strands caught between the cracks; tugging and pulling in just the right way. Just the way a certain archer would have tugged and pulled when running his hands through.

 

Salty droplets streaked down ruddy cheeks, catching and soaking the wiry beard that occupied Jesse's jaw. Another swig of Jack. Another plume of smoke dancing away from Jesse's lips. The fire roared now, crackling and popping, cheering the room a bit with it's glow. The warmth seeped through his frozen clothing, heating the lightly tanned skin beneath layers of dirty cloth. Surprisingly lithe, scarred fingers loosened their grip on the whiskey bottle, seeking instead to unbutton the sweat drenched flannel shirt and worn jeans. Another drag of cloven smoke. Fingers dragging through across the newly exposed flesh.

 

Honey golden eyes slid open lazily to watch the smoke curl and twist in the dimness. The crackling of the logs, the thick, heady scent of wood fire and pine overwhelmed his senses; waking something primal in Jesse. Every camp out he and Hanzo had been assigned to, every drunk fumbling when they should have been on watch. The cowboy stubbed out the rest of his tobacco, hands favoring the feeling of the thick thatch of hair dusted across his sex. The coarse hair scraped against his worn fingertips, the sensation near enough to Hanzo's facial hair that Jesse let out a small sigh.

 

One hand rubbed up his muscled belly, massaging sloppy circles into the now heated flesh. Jesse's other hand traveled lower, straight into the center of the thick hair. His cock was proud, standing tall and firm, shadowed in the flames' shifting light. Jesse closed his eyes once again, imagining his lover standing near the fireplace, amusement obvious in Hanzo's posture, lust causing a laser like focus in his eyes. Jesse groaned as he took himself in hand; smooth skin coated and shining with precum.

 

The whiskey lit his veins ablaze, taking any semblance of inhibition he may have had. It didn't matter now, no one would see his shame; just as they wouldn't see his heartbreak. Here, in the confined space of his cabin, Jesse was free to lay his sins bare. His callused hand twisted and pulled, just the way he knew he'd like it, just the way Hanzo would have done this. A sweat slick sheen glossed across Jesse's forehead, plastering chocolate locks to the skin there. Jesse let deep groans grate their way from his dry throat.

 

Hanzo had left his place near the fire and had gone to the serape, " _I loved this one. It still smells of me, if you know where to look."_

 

The realization sent Jesse clambering over the side of the bed, stretching his arm as far as it would go until he managed to lock his fingers around the woolen fabric. The cowboy resumed his place wedged against the headboard, his right hand resumed its ministrations to bring his erection back to painful and leaking. Jesse's left hand twisted and turned over the serape, nose scanning in vain for any hint of Hanzo that may have clung there.

 

_"Right corner."_ Hanzo supplied helpfully.

 

Just then, Jesse's nose connected with the spice of cologne Hanzo had loved to wear on their dates; it was enough to cause a small dribble of drool to leak from the corner of Jesse's mouth. The cowboy attacked the shawl now; gasping deep and open mouthed into the soaked patch of wool. His skin became impossibly hot, clothes a restricting reminder of futility of his fantasies, pulling him back to the present. Something deep inside of Jesse ached as he raced to completion; strangled sobs burst forth, surprising even him. His cock twitched, sensitive and threatening to spill seed on the serape. Jesse slowed his pace savoring this feeling, savoring the smell of Hanzo and the near boiling of the room's temperature; it was the first time in months that Jesse had free of the tortured thoughts that laced their way through his mind. It was the first night the terrors of being awake seemed to push back and coil in on themselves, just for one night.

 

Jesse's hips canted up, belt buckle clinking loudly with the movement, the rhythm was erratic, frantic. Hanzo leered at him from the edge of the bed, whispering encouragement and praise. Jesse bit down on the scented fabric, gritting his teeth against the building pressure in his balls. It had been so long since he'd had any kind of release; the skin grew taut, signaling an end to Jesse's carnal struggle.

Tears spilled from Jesse's cheeks, mixing with the drool and condensation that had been smeared on the wool already, soaking the cowboy's face even further.

 

With a loud groan and a last shuddering twitch of his hips, Jesse came. Thick ropy strands of semen painted the cowboy's belly, pearls forming on the soft fur there. Hanzo looked pleased, Jesse looked as though he'd had the life taken out of him. With much more carelessness than warranted, Jesse wiped at his fluids with the sleeve of his shirt. Without bothering to tuck himself back into his pants, Jesse wrapped the serape in his arms, molding his form around it.

 

"I miss ya darlin'", Jesse breathed to no one.

 

The winter wind whistled outside, taking Jesse's energy with it; he dozed off, trapped somewhere between a fever dream and a nightmare. A hand as pale as death stroked the cowboy's flushed cheek. It wasn't much, but Hanzo hoped it would be enough to get through to his anguished lover. The archer stood by the fire a while more before disappearing with the smoke, both swirling and mixing with the storm outside.

 


End file.
